


Too Far Down

by Soar319



Series: Quirrel's Locations [4]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: (insect blood), Blood Loss, Comfort, Crying, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Cuddling, Violence, let ghost have fun, mawleks and lightseeds, not always the best route to go, quirrel is willing to defend to the death, water fights, we all splashed water on quirrel in deepnest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-06 03:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17932412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soar319/pseuds/Soar319
Summary: Quirrel makes his way to the deepest recesses of Hallownest, against his better judgement.





	1. Ancient Basin

If there was one sign throughout Hallownest that piqued his interest, it was the one indicating "The White Palace." Quirrel ran his fingers over the sign, the white paint standing brilliantly out against the deep purple. 

He made his way back to the City of Tears, following the signs to the elevator. The White Palace! It sounds so wonderfully grand! The few journals he has come across speak of blinding white spires, gleaming marble paths, shining silver doors, and more. How would it have held up all these years? He surely hoped it was still standing. Could he go in? God, if he could explore a ruined castle-

He walked over to the elevator, pausing. 

The elevator shaft was there, but no elevator in sight. 

Quirrel blinked, glancing back at the sign outside; it pointed to where he stood. The White Palace, underneath the City of Tears. Take the elevator down to reach it. 

Except… no elevator. He looked over the edge, seeing that the platforms have broken long ago. Only pieces of scaffolding and poorly wrenched together landings was the path down, guarded by two sentries that, quite frankly, looked in a daze. Quirrel still kept to the shadows, glancing at the sign again. 

Was his curiosity making him go too bold? Perhaps he should stay away…. 

But the White Palace! How he wanted to see it! How he wanted to… see it… 

Gripping his nail tightly, Quirrel began to descend down, slinking past the sentries and shifting down platforms. It wasn't long before he couldn't hear the rain pattering outside, his heart thumping against his shell a little harder. The pressure began to steadily increase as he descended further down. 

Spikes glinted with an unknown light as he dropped onto the next platform, his gut twisting more. Something rumbled in his head - not the ground, not the walls, but… in his head. A profound sense of dread creeping and scuttling its spindly claws up towards his brain. 

Quirrel swallowed and jumped to the last platform, seeing a collapsed, crashed, and broken elevator crumpled at the bottom. 

"... So that's where it went." He weakly chuckled to himself, fruitlessly trying to lighten his nerves. The walls were no longer the royal purples and deep blues, hosting a rather faded, muted mix of brown and grey. It could have been his imagination, but he swore that there were black wisps melting into thin air, like smoke. 

Descending further down, he felt his shell crawl as he heard the sounds of claws and teeth scraping over each other, a pit of bottom-feeders all gouging at one another for even the slightest piece of flesh. He saw a corpse of a bug slowly slide off the platform, falling in; it was torn apart into dust in seconds. Quirrel kept one hand on his nail; he didn't want to admit he was  _ terrified _ . 

Creeping through craggy corridors and ice-cold tunnels, he dropped down into a tram station, taking a moment to admire the architecture. Who would have thought there would be such intricately designed buildings and transportation here, of all places? 

A tram sat there with its doors open, the seats warm and inviting. Some calming music played inside, how nice. 

But it wasn't what he came here for. As much as he wanted to sit down, his curiosity was still burning fresh in his mind, urging him to descend even deeper. Down, down, down… 

Silence. Dead silence. Crawlids quietly scuttled up and down the walls, except… they weren't crawlids. Their orange eyes followed him but only continued crawling up and down, their shell shifting and sliding against each other. 

How did something so far down here manage to live? What did they eat? Drink?

The pressure was beginning to press down on his shoulders. How far down is he? Quirrel shuffled further, following the signs. The White Palace, there it was. 

He took a step onto the palace grounds, glancing down at the yellowed, cracked marble pathway. A decrepit, dilapidated filthy palace sat crumpled at the end, a strange corpse with blinding white armor slumped over the collapsed entrance. The spires have long collapsed, the caverns only dimly lit by a few feeble lumafly lanterns. Quirrel crept a little closer, his mind screaming for him to go, _ go, he wasn't welcome, he wasn't welcome-  _

_ "You can't be serious! These are children! CHILDREN!"  _

_ "Quirrel, this isn't-"  _

_ "YOURS! THEY'RE YOURS!"  _

_ "Quirrel, stop this right now!"  _

_ "WHAT KIND OF A KING ARE YOU?!"  _

_ "QUIRREL! STAND DOWN!" _

_ "NO! THIS IS  _ **_DISGUSTING AND YOU KNOW IT!_ ** _ "  _

The pressure increased. 

His throat felt constricted, Quirrel trying to back away with a whispered apology under his breath. But he couldn't finish it. He didn't want to apologize. The words stopped short. Why? Why? He was slightly disappointed, sure, but he could feel his shell crawling. This ruined crumbling palace, it made him feel  _ sick _ . 

And yet he stood there. 

The corpse of… something lied in front of what he guessed was supposed to be the destroyed entrance. The pale, spiked armor was still immaculately white, contrasting heavily against the pure black body. It seemed to absorb the light around it, Quirrel unsure of why it slightly reminded him of his little wandering friend. 

Was it… alive? 

His curiosity scorched at his head, his brain screamed for him to  _ run _ . Quirrel swallowed, reaching out. The tips of his claws touched the armor, freezing to the touch. 

Sigils flashed across his vision, Quirrel barely having time to react before his head hit the ground, eyes slamming shut. 

_ He opened his eyes, hearing the King dismissing them. It took every bit of willpower to not spit onto the pristine marble floor. He kept his head down, wondering if he could puncture holes with just his glare. She was trying to speak more, but the King would not listen to another word. He gripped his nail, the other hand restricted with bandages.  _

_ "Dismissed." The King said firmly, the end unintentionally punctuated. She tried to get one more word out, the Kingsmould already escorting them out. He only raised his head when the great doors slammed shut, walking over to her and taking her tentacle into his hand.  _

_ "Let's go, Madam… you are not well." She wordlessly nodded, Quirrel turning towards the exit and beginning to walk. He more or less pulled her along, shifting to the left and right to avoid stalactites.  _

_ Hallownest was dying. As if a cruel joke from the infection, the Basin was one of the most dangerous places to traverse; strange mutated creatures with vicious teeth scuttled about, orange cells reanimating dead bugs back to life. Cysts and bubbles pulsated in the deepest corners, mocking the King. He has no longer been permitted to leave the palace unless absolutely necessary, the White Lady already long hid away.  _

_ "We're almost to the elevator." He ran a thumb over her tentacle, feeling a little relief settle in as she relaxed, even for the tiniest amount. She gave a weary nod, movements still listless.  _

_ If it wasn't for a guttural scream that yanked her from sleep, it was an order from the King to report progress. Quirrel found himself donning the pale armor he despised more and more, shoving it all down to perhaps reach a point where she could finally have a full night's rest soon. He wished she would rest for even a second, but they were running on borrowed time.  _

_ "I… apologize for my outburst earlier," Quirrel mumbled, glancing up at her. She shook her head.  _

_ "No, no… it is alright. It is only natural, I was the same…" She murmured, gazing off into the winding tunnels and stifling air. They were almost to the elevator. Just a few more minutes.  _

_ He froze as he heard scuttling, putting a claw up to his mask when she asked why did they stop. They stood in the tunnel in silence, Quirrel tightening his hand on his nail.  _

_ Thump thump thump. Three stomps from above.  _

_ The scuttling stopped. He held his breath, changing his grip. Thump, thump, thump- _

_ He slashed to the right. The edge sliced through the lesser mawlek's mouth, the beast letting out a garbled shriek and diving forward. Quirrel shoved her behind him and drove his nail right through the tunnel of teeth, resisting a scream as the front row managed to clamp around his arm.  _

_ "Quir-!" The nail skewed right through, flinging the body to the side. The teeth detached with jagged gashes, hemolymph oozing through. Quirrel winced, changing to his bandaged hand. She quickly knelt down, hurriedly taking out her bag. "Give me your arm-" _

_ Thump thump thump. He widened his eyes, seeing the ceiling begin to rumble.  _

_ "Elevator. We have to move, now." He hissed through the pain, cradling his arm a little haphazardly.  _

_ "Quirrel, you're hurt!" She insisted.  _

_ Three more thumps, then heavy footsteps sprinting above. Quirrel shoved his nail back into the sheath. He barely managed to get a word out before the ceiling behind collapsed. The mawleks shrieked, charging forward.  _

_ He grabbed her tentacle and  _ **_ran_ ** _.  _

_ Scuttling echoed behind, his heart pumping in his head. The exit was right on up ahead. The scuttling was getting close. The elevator was there, was just up ahead, the scuttling was getting  _ **_too close too close TOO CLOSE-_ **

_ He let go of her, grabbing the first stalagmite and swinging around. His nail slashed at the first, puncturing through the second. She was still jetting forward, nearly crashing into the walls as she struggled to brake. _

_ "QUIRREL!"  _

_ "RUN!" Ducking underneath teeth and bladed claws, he thanked the armor for protecting some of the more lethal attacks. Orange blood spewed across the floor, Quirrel continuously backing up as the mawleks shrieked and advanced forward. They climbed over the corpses of their dead brethren. His arm  _ **_burned_ ** _ , his hand  _ **_screamed_ ** _. More hemolymph dripped onto the ground. "GET TO THE ELEVATOR!" _

_ "I'M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!" _

_ "GO! I'LL CATCH UP!" The claw swung down, Quirrel parrying it at the last second; he ignored the white-hot burn stabbing at his shoulder. His feet ground against the bottom of the floor. He could hear her call the elevator down, gripping his forearm and slashing the mawlek dead.  _

_ "GET IN HERE!" He rushed out of the tunnel, slamming his fist against the wall with a cry; the exit hole trembled, collapsing. The mawleks behind shrieked and clawed, fruitlessly trying to get out. His armor was thoroughly dented and slashed, more orange than white. She was waiting with the elevator doors open, the two glancing up as a  _ **_CRACK_ ** _ resonated through the chamber.  _

_ A mawlek slammed down from above, roaring and whirling towards the elevator.  _

_ He didn't even think twice.  _

_ "KASHAA!" He slammed his nail right into the top, wrenching the head back. Wrestling with the muscles underneath, Quirrel widened his eyes as a bladed claw reared up, detaching his nail a second too late.  _

_ The blade came down as the mawlek jerked its head back, his body flung against the wall. He landed with a sickening thud, the armor splintering and breaking. Something clattered onto the ground.  _

_ cold cold pressure  _ **_pressure_ ** _ danger run run  _ **_RUN DANGER UP UP PRESSURE GO GO GOGOGOGO_ **

_ "HOW DARE YOU!" No no no madam no- Quirrel gasped for each breath, one eye flooded with orange. He wiped the hemolymph off his face, making out blurry figures of the mawlek and her fighting. She delivered a vicious shock, only managing to stun it to jet out of the way of the acidic spew.   _

**_leave leave leave NOW NOW NOW_ **

_ He shoved his antennae underneath his hood unceremoniously, chest heaving to the point it hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to stand. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt-  _

_ He ran forward, seeing her already moving towards the elevator once more. She was holding the doors open for him.  _

_ "Qui-" He barely managed to sidestep before the mawlek slammed down between the elevator and him. It looked at her, teeth unfurling as orange acid bubbled within.  _

_ It was a split second decision. The doors were opened outward.  _

_ He kicked the doors shut, the elevator rumbling to life. The acid splattered all over the doors, the mawlek screeching and whirling around to focus on him.  _

_ "QUIRREL,  _ **_NO_ ** _!"  _

_ "Hallownest needs you,  _ **_GO_ ** _!" The elevator rumbled up. Quirrel parried the mawlek claw, hearing the chains rattle and lift her away from this blasted place. She yelled something. He didn't care if it was from anger. He didn't have time to care. Slashing down at the thick hide, it retaliated with a slash of their own, pain exploding out of his chest. He staggered back and coughed, touching the wound to see fresh hemolymph dripping down his claws. Wiping it on his side, he held his nail in his good arm, taking two deep breaths.  _

_ The mawlek roared, charging forward.  _

_ "KASHAA!" He leaped and stabbed his nail right into the center of the mouth. He drove it deeper and deeper, ignoring the blade slashing his shell. A disgusting squelch made his stomach flip, Quirrel raising his nail and stabbing it straight down once more. The mawlek let out a blood-curdling howl, shaking the entire cavern. He detached his nail and dove away, crying with a pitiful yelp as he landed on his bad arm.  _

_ As if anybody was around to hear.  _

_ It flailed and shrieked, exploding with a flood of viscous orange liquid. It drained below the platform, Quirrel stumbling as he tried to stand back up. His vision streaked with orange, barely managing to make out the elevator lever with how blurry everything was. The floor was covered in hemolymph- how much was his? How much has he lost? Call the elevator, call the elevator, meet up with her-  _

_ Orange cells. They scattered from the ceiling. The sound of scuttling made him want to vomit. He could barely swing his nail to fend them off, collapsing against the railing. It hurt, it hurt all over,  _ **_it hurt it hurt-_ **

_ They kept on coming. Crawling up his legs, his nail, his body. Scuttling, scuttling, pulsating, digging, up up up. He tried to claw them off, a sharp heave punched out of his throat as he only tore open his wounds more. Stumbling as if drunk, he slammed against the railing or the walls, trying to fling them off or squish them.  _

_ Each splatter made him want to hurl.  _

_ Quirrel threw himself against the cave walls again, ignoring the splitting pain firing up his shell. It's too much, too much, curl curl  _ **_curl safety hide hide hide-_ **

_ He could feel them scuttling all over his shell, tapping to get in. Squirm underneath the cracks. Tapping, tapping, tapping. It wanted in,  _ **_it wanted in._ **

_ The elevator was groaning back. He couldn’t stay curled forever. His body only cried the more he tried to curl up, protesting against the pressure and strain. He tried to ease some of the tension, panting as his body almost too easily uncurled. Orange liquid spilled out almost too easily, pooling onto the ground.  _

_ They stared at him dead in the eyes, the orange pigmentation almost glowing. He couldn’t move, staring back. It scuttled forward, towards his eyes. The door lurched open. It stood there, reaching for his eyes-  _

_ Electrical shocks tore through the air.  _

_ "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"  _ His nail slammed against the ground, Quirrel jolting up with a scream. The nail clanged against metal, pain shooting up his arm. He bit his hand to prevent another scream. 

For the first time, the hood felt like it was suffocating. He tore the mask off his head and almost ripped his hood as he untied it, taking stuttering breaths as he flung his own mask off. They all clattered to the ground, the nail still gripped in his claws until it felt like the handle was slicing into his joints.

The freezing air of the caverns flooded his lungs, stinging at his face. He has long forgotten what it felt to have his face exposed to the world, antennae rearing up. 

_ It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold pressing pressing too far too far too  _ **_FAR GET OUT_ **

Grabbing his things, he sprinted away, clawing up the steep cliffs and ignoring the scraping of the spikes. He clutched the masks’ straps until he felt like his claws were going to puncture through his palm, his nail sloppily looped on his belt. It threatened to stab his leg multiple times, but he didn’t care. 

He needed to get out.  **NOW.**

_ Scraping scraping  _ **_DANGER_ ** \- It’s just those crawlers! -  _ left left vibration left where enemy where _ \- it’s only a crawler it’s only a crawler-  _ pressure pressure  _ **_pressure gogogogo GO_ **

The tram, the doors were open. The doors were open -  _ safety safety in in in _ \- He slammed against the seats and collapsed against the floor. He frantically pressed the first button he saw, swallowing in the freezing air as the tram groaned against the rails, finally moving away from the cursed place. 

Quirrel clutched his forearms, curling up against the seats.

_ Moving moving pressure too deep cold cold cold   _

He hid, hid until the tram came to a groaning halt, the icy floor stinging his cheek. The doors creaked open, his entire body freezing up. 

**_No no no no no hissing hissing scuttle danger danger hide hide hide_ **

He wanted to hide inside the tram forever. 

Deepnest scuttled and hissed, his nerves rocketing up once more. He has gone too far down, to where he wasn’t supposed to travel. He can’t hide inside forever. It wasn’t right. 

In the distance, he heard running water. He grabbed his things and stumbled out of the tram, gripping his nail tighter than ever. He didn’t care that his antennae were screaming for him to run _get out of here_ ** _RUN_** and took a shaky step forward, ignoring how his breaths made his shell rattle. He didn't care that it was freezing, stinging his face and clawing at his antennae. 

He didn't care. 

He dashed past the garpedes, stumbling over his own legs. He sprinted in the darkness, only the glowing mushrooms guiding his way. He ran, ran until he saw the waterfalls, ran until he heard the water sloshing up against the rocks. 

He hurled himself into the hot spring, letting the outside world disappear. 


	2. Deepnest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel relaxes in the hotspring and is visited.

_ He has never felt more like shit.  _

_ His entire body ached. It hurt more than the month he fell, smashed, and crashed when practicing parkour along the Archive shelves. It hurt more than the week he got slammed by Kingsmoulds to train to be a proper guard. No, this aching dug right into his shell, his limbs, and his insides.  _

_ Warm water seeped through his joints, feebly soothing a fraction of the stinging. Each breath only made his chest hurt, though the constricting sensation did not help. Quirrel tried to take another breath, only convulsing with a series of coughs and hacks.  _

_ “Where is she, where is she…?” He wasn’t sure if he responded with a word or gurgle, trying to crack his eyes open; a suckling and crackling sound made his entire stomach flip, deciding to keep them shut. His head still spun.  _

_ What in the world was constricting him? Tubes?  _

_ He mustered some amount of energy to squirm out, the tubes loosening for a second as if surprised. He reeled at the sudden release, crying out as his shell scraped against a rough surface. “No, no, Quirrel, stay. Do not move, do not.” The tubes constricted back around.  _

_ “M-Madam…?” Quirrel managed to whimper out.  _

_ “Just a little longer, okay? Just a little longer.” She sounded so frantic, so scared…  _

_ “I’m back!” Was that Kindly Isma? “I have the webs!”  _

_ “Quick, give them to me!” Her voice cracked and faltered. He was suddenly lifted up onto dry land, a rag wiping the excess water off. The tubes let go, Quirrel wishing he could breathe a sigh of relief. Sharp stinging stung all over his body, a sudden realization of how severe his wounds really were settling in. He opened his mouth to speak, only managing a ragged exhale. “Spread the lifeblood over and seal them in with the webs.” _

_ “Understood.” Each time the lifeblood seeped into a new wound, a bloom of pain made itself known. Quirrel couldn’t help but tremble and gasp at times, trying to sit as still as possible despite so. He still couldn’t open his eyes, sitting in a darkness that he wanted to curl up in and hide away.  _

_ He nearly jumped out of his shell when claws rested on his shoulder, letting out a shuddery breath. He felt something akin to rope coil around his wrists and legs, something shifting against his mouth.  _

_ “This is going to really hurt. Bite down.” Isma’s voice echoed in his head. He thinks he asked why, unsure if his voice registered properly in his fogging mind. The rope pressed against his mouth. “Bite the vine.” He couldn’t question, closing his mouth around; it was tough and bitter, making him almost recoil and let go.  _

_ Agony exploded across his face, a scream piercing his head. His jaw snapped back around the vine, biting down until he swore something cracked. He gnashed and writhed against the restraints, unsure if the guttural noises bubbling out of his throat were screams of pain or apologies to Isma.  _

_ The web was stuck across his face, tubes - her tentacles - lifting him back into the water. The lifeblood seeped even deeper, the hot water just managing to soothe the excess pain.  _

_ How long did he lie in the spring for, waiting for the pain to finally lower to a tolerable level? Drifting in and out of consciousness, hearing her and Isma talking. She sounded so worried, so scared… how is he going to make this up to her?  _

_ Enough strength allowed him to sit up, coughing and rubbing his chest to try to relieve some of the tightness. He cracked his left eye open, struggling with the other. Through the hazy blurry mess, he saw her take a huge sigh of relief, wrapping her tentacles around him in a tight, yet careful hug.  _

_ “Oh thank the wyrm…!” He blinked, trying to clear some of the blurriness away. Her body trembled underneath the cloak. Shit, he worried her that much? No, no no… _

_ “M-Madam, I-” _

_ “No, do not speak.” She pulled away, cupping his cheeks. “You were willing to lay your life down for me. Words cannot describe the gratitude I have, Quirrel.” Wait, was she touching his cheek? His hands flew up to his face, a wince escaping as a sharp stab of pain along his right shoulder made itself known. “Do not make sudden moves! Your entire body is injured!” She chided.  _

_ “Mask….?” He managed to whisper out, hoping that the garbled words were understandable.  _

_ “I apologize for the invasion of privacy, but it was necessary. The mawlek caught underneath the mask and slashed at your face.” He gingerly touched the webbing and lifeblood, swallowing and nodding. Unlike his body which had a level of protection with a hard shell or protective layer, his face was exposed flesh. The air felt freezing and oppressive, everything suddenly unbearably bright without the filter of his mask. It was only due to the immense aching and shock that was keeping his antennae from overloading his head with warnings.  _

_ “My mask…?” _

_ “No, it was the pale armor one. Your mask is back at the Archives, but even so, it might not fit correctly around the wound.” She was right. Quirrel slumped his shoulders in defeat. It felt… alien to have it exposed. “If it makes you feel any better, you look quite lovely.” His cheeks heated up, Quirrel pulling his hood down with a wheeze.  _

_ “M-Madam, do not…” He mumbled, receiving a little chuckle in return. He suddenly remembered that there was somebody else here, raising his head to Isma. “Lady Isma, I apolog-” Isma ran her hand over her vines, one of them having bite marks. She laughed and waved her hand.  _

_ “Why do you think these vines are so tough? I’ve had plenty of creatures take a chunk out of these bad girls. You’re like a mosscreep bite.” She reassured, glancing back at where the tram was. “... I’m guessing you do not want to head back to the elevator, yeah?” _

_ They both nodded. Who knows how many mawleks have congregated there after hearing the death screech of their brethren?  _

_ “Let’s make our way back through the Queen’s garden then. I can pick up some medicinal plants for him too!”  _

_ “What about the weavers?” _

_ “They know to not attack us. We are only passing by to reach the Queen’s garden, that is all.” They got up, Quirrel squirming slightly as her tentacles tried to pick him up. He tried to ignore the fact that he could barely stand, the world spinning in a nauseating tango. He wanted to walk, wanted to not inconvenience her.  _

_ “Madam, I can-” He took a step forward, a wave of fatigue crashing like a mace to the face. His knees buckled, his face almost slamming against the ground if it weren’t for her catching him, giving a shake of the head. “I-I can-” _

_ “Rest, Quirrel.” She scooped his body up and cradled him close, hiding his face against her cloak. He still squirmed in a feeble attempt to protest. “Please rest, Quirrel.” He did not want to admit that his eyes were already beginning to close, barely managing to fight against exhaustion.  _

_ “I…” _

_ “Rest. I will wake you up when we get back home.” The last thing he remembers is Isma saying she’ll carry the bags. Her tentacle rested over his face, closing his eyes. He blacked out, hoping the pain would subside when he wakes up.  _

One breath in. One breath out. One in. One out. 

Both of his eyes cracked open, staring up at the pitch-black ceiling. Quirrel took a shuddering breath, raising his hand and letting the water drip onto his face. They felt real. Little warm drops, they were real. He is okay. He is alive. It was just a flashback, a memory. 

He slowly rolled over and sat against the spring, glancing at the water surface. He could make out his face in the reflection, a scar slashing diagonally across his face. It just barely clipped above his right eye. Reaching to land, he grabbed his mask, putting it on. It fit snugly, dulling the bright colors. 

And the mask, he just… felt weird without the weight on his head. Looping the straps around and securing it back into place, he took another deep breath, lounging against the spring to relax his joints. 

All these dreams, fleeting moments… who? Who were they? I… Isma? Was that one of the names? There were two figures there. Isma and… and…

_ Quirrel…  _

He sank further into the water until it touched his chin, closing his eyes. One breath in, one breath out. One breath in… one breath out… In… out… In… out-

**_SCREEEEE-_ **

He shot up, grabbing his nail. 

“Who’s there?!” He blinked as he saw Ghost run out of the darkness, dashing as if the very shadows were chasing them. “Friend? What is-” A flash of orange caught his attention, Quirrel immediately moving between Ghost and the tunnel. 

A spindly creature bearing several black legs scuttled forward, orange acid spewing out of their bulging stomach. It pulsated and beat like a deranged heart, Quirrel feeling sick just hearing the ungodly screeches. It moved in such a way that sent a shiver down his shell; was it how joints seemed deformed? Far too long? The abnormally long neck? 

But what tipped him over the edge was the head; a perfect intimidation of his friend, stabbed on like a skewer, the neck broken and hanging limply. 

It was  _ revolting _ . 

It shrieked and charged forward, Quirrel diving to the side. Like second nature, he shifted his grip to standard and slashed forward, the blade slicing through the stomach; orange blood gushed out but coagulated around the would fairly quickly, Quirrel shifting back into reverse. It looked like Ghost has done quite the amount of damage already, but the liquid still held the mass together.  

He was going to have to cut deep if he wanted to take it down in one go. 

The monster braked and swiveled around, screaming and leaping up onto the ceiling. He sidestepped all the globs raining down, gripping and pointing his nail straight up; it dropped down, Quirrel stabbing it through the stomach and piercing right through. 

**_SCREEEEE-_ ** His ears rung. He wrenched his nail out and jumped back, readying his nail. He closed his eyes. One breath in, one breath out. 

The scuttling rushed forward. He turned the handle between his fingers, diving in the narrow space between the legs and stomach. 

“KASHAAA!” Cutting straight through, the entire sack collapsed and spilled, the blood pouring out faster it could coagulate. The monster shrieked, smashing into the wall and writhing on the ground. Quirrel dove behind a few rocks, hearing it writhe and scream; he swore some of the screams were of bugs. 

One more chilling death rattled echoed through the room. 

He only stepped out when there was ten straight seconds of silence. The spindly legs looked like they were about to twitch at any second. But the head, the head of that… that thing, a skewered Ghost, was left behind. Cracks struck down the middle. It was nauseating to look at, Quirrel opting to take the entire body and hurl it at the bottom-feeders to feast on. They tore it apart in seconds. The head was split and shattered, reminding him of another predicament. 

Was Ghost okay?

“Friend, are you-” He froze as they shuffled out between a few rocks. He finally had a chance to take a proper look. 

Black liquid pooled around their feet, a crack striking down their skull threatening to split the entire head into two. Their nail hung limply in their hand, leaving behind a trail of orange. Their body heaved up and down, taking a trembling and pitiful step forward. 

He simply couldn’t stand seeing Ghost like that. The atmosphere and tension in the room was unbearably stifling. 

“Why not join me for a time?” He said warmly. “These waters do wonders for weary legs.” Very carefully and gently scooping Ghost up, he turned towards the spring, jolting as the black liquid dripped onto his arms. 

It was  _ freezing _ . His arms immediately went numb, almost dropping Ghost. He felt like his limbs were being latched and sucked towards an unknown force. 

Ghost seemed to notice his sudden recoil, wriggling in a feeble attempt to escape. He adamantly refused, only holding tighter and marching into the hot spring to lower Ghost inside. The water seemed to glow a little more, the crack along their head beginning to seal up - that was good, that was relieving. The liquid no longer dripped out of their body, Ghost staring down at the surface of the water. Their shoulders slightly trembled. He moved closer. 

“Friend? Are you okay?” He whispered quietly. He rested his hand on Ghost’s cheek, rubbing the cold, smooth surface with gentle strokes. Their shoulders trembled more, their nail clattering into the water. Quirrel retracted his hand. 

The black liquid began to seep out of their eyes, dripping down the rounded sides dropping into the white waters below. Their shoulders shook, the liquid coming out faster and faster. 

… Crying? 

“Hey, hey…” He cupped Ghost’s head, the liquid continuing to seep out of those endless sockets. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Nothing is going to harm you.” He reassured, trying to wipe away some of the liquid. It was ice cold, stinging at his claws and biting at his digits. How was it so damn  _ cold _ ? 

It freaked him out, yes, but he would be damned if he ignored Ghost’s plight only due to some discomfort. 

“Nothing is coming to attack us, don’t worry.” Ghost’s body jumped a little like a hiccup. They stumbled forward, pressing against Quirrel’s body and tucking their head underneath his chin. He didn’t mind, sitting down properly and hugging them close, letting them weep. 

What on earth did Ghost see inside those caverns? And what was that creature…? 

Sitting in silence, he took the time to take a closer look at them. If he had to be honest, only now did he really realize how… small Ghost truly was. They fit in his arms quite easily and weighed close to nothing. Those little horns were round at the tips, Quirrel recalling to the only other two bugs he’s seen that bore some kind of similar resemblance: the red-cloaked bug he fought at the Howling Cliffs and the statue in the City of Tears. 

Their horns rose high and were pointed at the end. 

… How old  _ was  _ Ghost? Hell, they could be a child for all he knows! And they were traversing the kingdom like this? 

They shifted closer whenever he rubbed the tip of their horns, silent whimpers and jumpy hiccups racking their body. It was almost pitiful to see the fearless wanderer he knows reduced to a small, trembling ball. He couldn’t blame them. 

“Stay for as long as you’d like, friend.” He cheerfully patted their head, chuckling as they wriggled against his chest and curled up. Eventually, the tremors stopped and the black liquid stopped leaking out of their eyes. Ghost squirmed out of his hold, standing in the hot spring. “Do you feel better now?” They thought for a little bit, nodding. “Glad to hear so.” Quirrel gave them a little pat on the head. 

They bounced in response. They sat in silence, Quirrel remembering the other times they stood with him. Perhaps some talk would be nice? He recalled back to his dream, a point standing out. 

“This is a ferocious place no doubt. Supposedly, there's a village deep in the warren.” Ghost seemed to perk up, Quirrel rubbing his chin. “Its inhabitants never accepted Hallownest's King.” What were they called? Something that started with a w… “... My memory fails me. Give me a few minutes, but in the meantime, why not stay a little longer?” Ghost seemed to like the idea, sitting down with a little splash. 

They kept each other’s company for a little bit, Ghost wading away a little to find their nail in the water again. They paused, glanced up at Quirrel who was still in deep thought, glanced at the nail, and then the water. 

They struck the water, Quirrel just managing to lower the mask on his head to block the splashes. Ghost struck more, Quirrel unable to help but laugh. 

“I am shocked! I give you my trust and safety and you betray me!” He teased. Ghost smacked him again with more water, shoulders trembling again. 

But this time, they trembled up and down. They used their hand to slap the water, more flecks of water landing on Quirrel. 

“Ah! My most trustworthy friend, stabbing me in the back! How dare thee!” Ghost’s shoulders shook more, flopping back into the water clutching their body. Quirrel couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

No sound left their head, but he knows they’re giggling. 

“Are you mocking my acting, friend?” Ghost nodded their head instantly, slapping the water. Quirrel put his hand over his chest, gasping. “I am most hurt! How could you?” Their shoulders shook, giving little pats on the water with their hands. Quirrel laughed, patting their head. “I’m glad you enjoyed my performance, it is good to see you showing such emotion!” They stopped patting the water, tilting their head. Quirrel blinked. “Hm?” 

They tilted their head again. 

“I said that it is nice to see you showing emotion. It is quite refreshing.” Ghost stared at him, slowly lowering their head to stare at the water. Quirrel swallowed. “Is… something wrong? Was it something I said?” He asked worriedly, wading over. Ghost continued to stare at the water. “Friend…?” He rested a hand on their cheek. 

He could not believe it when Ghost splashed him with a face full of water and scrambled out of the spring with their shoulders trembling in delight, bouncing up and down. He wiped the excess water off with a laugh. 

“Betrayal! Attacked by my own brethren! Get back here!” Ghost rolled on the floor clutching their body, Quirrel getting out of the spring to chase them around. 

Who knew in such a ferocious and deadly place, he would be having such a wonderful moment with his friend? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me banging my fists on the table repeatedly: TEAM CHERRY LET GHOST ACT LIKE A LITTLE CHILD LET EM B HAPPY
> 
> i do have my idea of what quirrel looks like w/o the mask here: http://soar200.tumblr.com/post/182798127004
> 
> gotta do the earlier locations lmao im going all out of order

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to post this for a while now; next chapter, Deepnest!


End file.
